


Stronger

by Fieryeule



Series: SEP Era [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash, Soldier Enhancement Program, Soldier Enhancement Program Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-15 20:27:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13038798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fieryeule/pseuds/Fieryeule
Summary: This new recruit is tougher than he looks.Or, Gabriel meets Jack.





	Stronger

**Author's Note:**

> Reading the previous fic will make more sense, but this can be a stand-alone.

Gabriel is really excited for this program to begin. So excited, it seems, that he he's having trouble falling asleep.

The man in the bunk below him has no such problems, judging from the sounds that echo throughout the room. Jack Morrison is asleep, and he is a snorer.

In all, Gabe's feeling pretty optimistic about his roommate. Morrison is as American as a double bacon cheeseburger, but he seems nice.

He'd said hello, and shook Gabe's hand with a refreshingly strong grip. He then changed, said goodnight, and had fallen swiftly to sleep. Gabe wishes he could do the same.

Apparently, Morrison had shown up only a couple hours ago. He doesn't know anything else about the guy, but Gabe's willing to bet he's just come from active duty. He's got that look of a man who's seen too much. He's fairly tan, too, so he's probably come from Africa as opposed to the military operations running in Eastern Europe right now. Despite the guy's strength, Gabe's a little worried for him.

Gabe was the first person to arrive at the facility. As soon as he got the papers a week ago, he said yes and was shipped over here by train. He'd been fighting insurgents in Oregon- some religious folk who believed that the holy fire of God was necessary for the earth to heal. He'd made good progress, sending the ringleaders to jail and destroying the fires they'd created. He'd been praised for his “quick thinking in the line of danger” that saved “countless innocent Americans”. They'd given him a medal and offered a promotion, but he'd refused. The SEP sounded more interesting, and he was done with fighting fires.

But anyway, he was the first one here, so he knew of all the other arrivals. And compared to the blond in the bottom bunk, they are rougher than sharkhide. One guy had gang tattoos all over his face- the criteria for the “soldier” part of the “Soldier Enhancement Program” seems to have a pretty low bar.

Compared to the other recruits, beautiful Morrison (or even Gabe himself, to be honest) doesn't stand a chance.

Beautiful? Has Gabe not thought over that part of his roommate?

Jack Morrison is the prettiest guy Gabe's ever seen. He's got blond hair, that despite being regulation length, is gorgeous. (Gabe's own hair is atrocious, in his opinion. It's why he always wears his hat, even indoors.) He seems quiet, too- a trait Gabe definitely values. It's a shame he's from the Midwest, judging from his accent, so he's probably not gay. Heaven knows that place has kept the homophobic 20th century sentiment alive.

In run down, Gabe is excited but nervous for himself and Morrison. 

Gabe yawns. Time for sleep, apparently. 

 

He's walking in the forest. The leaves crunch under his feet, and twigs dig into his arms as he walks by. The air is heavy, and smells slightly of smoke. The forest is silent save the noise of his passage and a slight roar on the horizon. His mouth is dry, and he licks his lips every couple of seconds. He feels a slight wave of dread wash over him- from what, he doesn't know.

He walks for what feels like hours but also at the same time seconds. Then he sees it.

A wall of flame towers over the forest. The crack of flaming trees suddenly appears from the previous silence and is impossible to ignore. The heat burns his face, and his eyes water from smoke. A woman he recognizes as a victim from Oregon appears in the fire. Wait, no, it's actually his mother. The woman-mother smiles at him. She is both taller than him and not.

She says something to him, but he can't hear her over the roar of the flames.

“What?!” He cries, tears running down his face. Some of them are from the smoke and heat and some aren't. “I can't hear you!” His voice is that of a child's.

She smiles at him. She says it again, and he tries to read her lips. He still can't hear her. “Please! Please! I can't hear you!” He sobs. She looks at him, and there are tears on her face. She smiles, again, and it is sadder than before. She turns around and walks into the smoke. She is gone. Only he is left, staring desolately at where she once stood.

 

Gabe wakes up with a start to the sound of a running shower. For a moment, he's terrified, but then he remembers Morrison. He buries his head under his pillow for a moment because it sure feels too early for being awake. A quick glance towards the only clock in the room reveals that yes, it's 0500 hours. Even if Morrison takes the world's longest shower, they'll still have plenty of time to make it to a hot breakfast.

Gabe sighs. It doesn't really matter now, because there's no way he's going to fall asleep. Once awake, Gabe is a force of nature; it'll take some serious planning to drag him down.

While Gabe is planning all of this, Morrison gets out of the shower. Gabe isn't sure how long exactly the shower was, but it definitely leaves time for him. 

“Good morning,” Gabe nods to his roommate. He throws off his covers and begins to climb down the ladder of the bunk bed. It's made of metal and squeaks as Gabe climbs down. 

Morrison winces at the sound. “Good morning,” he parrots, in his deep voice. Morrison is wearing nothing but a tower around his waist and Gabe makes sure to focus on getting his towel from the closet. “Hey, do you know what we're supposed to wear?” Morrison sounds unsure, and it doesn't go well with him.

“Hm? Oh, there are clothes in the dresser. I took the top two drawers, so yours are in the bottom ones.” Gabe says as impartially as he can. The clothing that the SEP had given them was fairly normal; pants, shirts, shorts, underwear, socks, and even a sweatshirt that Gabe has fastidiously ignored.

“That's fine, thanks.” Morrison sounds like he isn't upset, but it's hard to tell.

Leaving his roommate, Gabe steps into the bathroom.

 

Gabe mulls over the state of the bathroom as he changes into his clothes. He likes bringing them into the bathroom, and the extra privacy is not unhelpful.

The bathroom here was pretty nice- the tiles and the paint clash, sure, but nothing is broken. There's a nice cubby where you can put your toiletries, and the shower has an even flow. Overall, it's better than a public restroom and way better than a homemade latrine in the forest.

Gabe walks out of the bathroom, fully dressed, and it's now officially 0515. They still have 15 minutes before breakfast is even open, much less before the good, hot stuff is available. He curses Morrison for a moment before looking at the man in question.

Gabe’s roommate sits against the wall, reading. There aren't really any chairs in the room, and the shag carpeting is rather nice, so it's definitely the best option. Morrison looks well-rested, but his frown is pretty intense. Gabe wonders if that's because of the situation, the book, or if he naturally looks like he wants to kill someone.

Upon seeing Gabe, Morrison does crack a slight smile, though it fades quickly. “What time is breakfast again?” 

“The hot stuff is ready at 0545, and that's the good stuff. We have plenty of time.” Gabe hangs up his towel and puts his dirty clothes in the specially provided bin. When he turns, Morrison looks sheepish.

“Sorry I woke us up so early,” he says, and he puts down his book. It looks to be some mass-market paperback. Some science fiction book that looks like it cost a dime at a flea market.

“It's fine,” Gabe assures him. “I had heard a bunch of people came after you last night, so this'll be good. If we leave now, we'll get the top pick.” He opens the door to the hallway and cocks an eyebrow at Morrison, who gives another small smile. They walk out of the room, and Gabe feels that maybe this program won't just be good but great.

“Yeah. Sanders told me last night that a whole crew of recruits was coming in right after me.” It takes Gabe a moment to realize Morrison's replied.

“That's a good source. Sanders was your tour guide?” That's interesting, Gabe muses. His own guide had also been Sanders, but as far as he had known, he was the only one. Of course, he hasn't talked much with the other recruits, but everyone seems to have gotten the secretary.

“Yeah. Wait, which hallway do we take?” They come to a fork. Gabe smiles, as he's forgotten that Morrison's new to the base. Gabe’s been here longer than anyone, so he knows the layout of this place like the back of his hand.

“Left. The right leads to the gym.” He knows that turn especially well. The second person had arrived three days after him, so he's spent way too much time lifting weights and running on a treadmill.

“Okay.”

The rest of the short trip is spent is silence. Gabriel thinks about his roommate. Morrison seems shy, to be honest. Gabe thinks his whole demeanor is sweet, kinda like a puppy. On a certain level, he can feel himself becoming more attracted to the man. Part of his brain is screaming cuss words at him for allowing this.

It isn't a good idea, you dumbass! It cries. We're in a secret government program out of a comic book! Half the participants look like they came out of a low-budget horror movie, and the other half are as incompetent as bricks! No one is your friend!

Gabe ignores that voice. It always says rude things like that. It's always been there, so he's got lots of practice in crushing it.

The other voice is quieter, but makes Gabe more nervous. This one's only come out a few times, but the times it has reared its ugly head have been times of strife and self-doubt. You've got a chance, it whispers. Look at him. Isn't he nice? You're in the military. It's not like he has any other options. Maybe he's the one. Gabe does his best to ignore both voices, and tries to focus on the cafeteria door in front of him.

Gabe and Morrison sit down at Gabe's favorite table. Morrison leans toward Gabe in what he’s starting to realize is the man’s “question face”.

“How does this work, exactly?” He asks. He narrows his eyes, though it's definitely more in concentration or bewilderment than anger. His voice is deep and it sounds like he's a smoker, although he doesn't strike Gabe as that sort of guy.

“We walk up to the counter in a line and pick out our food. It's basically a buffet.” Morrison nods his head in response to this new information.

“Who are the other recruits?”

“Well,” Gabe winces, “there are some interesting characters, to say the least. Some of them look like they just came out of prison, to be honest. There were only a couple of dozen at dinner yesterday, but if a whole bus load came in last night, there's bound to be more today.”

Morrison nods. He looks like he's about to say something but is cut off by the banging of doors.

Roughly 30 young men walk into the room. They aren't organized, but it's obvious they're together. They all have a look about them, but it's different from Gabriel's or Morrison's. They have the look of new soldiers who haven't had a chance to bleed in their uniform. They are cocky in their albeit unsure steps, and their laughter is too loud.

“Guess those are the recruits Sanders meant,” Gabe mutters. Morrison nods, and gets up. He returns to the table with two cups of coffee, black. Huh. A man after his own tastes, Gabe figures. “Thanks,” Gabe says, and they continue to gawk at the recruits.

The recruits are gangly in their movements. They stumble a bit, and Gabe isn't really sure why until one of them walks nearby, and he gets a whiff of alcohol. That makes sense, Gabe notes. Someone partied hard last night.

The recruits stumble around, slowly getting coffee and taking over tables. The cafeteria is empty save Gabe, Morrison, and the recruits, so it's a surprise when one of them decides to sit down and say hello.

The man looks to be around 18 and is as green as an unripe banana. He, despite his young age, smells just as drunk as the rest of drunk of them. If anything, he's drunker; some of his buddies are nursing hangovers but he's still caught in the clutches of alcohol.

Gabe’s vaguely interested in where this is heading when the guy picks up Morrison's coffee and takes a long sip before spitting it out on the table.

“What is this shit?” The dude cries, and Gabe is impressed with how drunk he is at 0525 at a military base. This guy has some dedication towards getting wasted. He truly must be all gone, Gabe notes, because the man's next choice is to punch in the nose the buff blond whose drink he stole. Apparently the guy's willing to fight over a hatred of black coffee.

Morrison faces the blow head-on and shoves the recruit over, but not too hard. The guy goes sprawling on the floor, but Gabe's pretty sure it's from his own intoxicated state. Morrison is now gushing blood, but he merely looks at the guy with a quirked eyebrow and a bemused expression.

As the security monitor drags away the coffee-stained recruit, Gabe is hit with a realization about Morrison. Gabe doesn't get those kinds of in-your-face messages often, so he makes sure he's listening when he does. The whole time, Gabe's been worrying about the guy, but not only is he strong, Morrison's kind. There's only one man covered in blood, and only one man who seems only mildly annoyed about the proceedings.

Gabe sips his coffee, and chuckles before getting up to help.    
“You've gotten yourself into quite the pickle, Morrison,” Gabe chuckles and gestures towards the door. The man really is covered in blood; he looks like an extra off the set of a horror movie. “The bathroom's this way. Is it broken?”

“I don't think so,” he says. “And it's Jack.”

“Hm?”

“You can call me Jack.”

“Alrighty then, Jack,” Gabe grins, and the words roll off his tongue. “You'll just have to call me Gabe.”

**Author's Note:**

> I really appreciate friendship, so look out for that. The next piece in this series will probably be a small multichapter one.


End file.
